


Kindred Spirit

by bpdsirens



Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom, Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26474836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bpdsirens/pseuds/bpdsirens
Summary: A quiet interaction between a lonesome Sorcerer and his Brujah friend.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Kindred Spirit

“So, ‘you ever been down to Nevada?” Vaughn asks in a very peculiar way, leaning back casually in his seat and taking a long sip of the drink he’s been nursing for most of the night.   
  


Perse shoots him a rather confused look, almost stupefied by the question itself.   
“Uhh well…” He trails off in a nervous manner, eyes everywhere by Vaughn as he does.  
  


“It’s fine to speak freely, this bar’s owned by the Anarchs and besides-'' He looks away himself, a hurt expression worn on his face at the notion that his own friend, who he’s known for _years_ can’t bring himself to speak freely. He understands it in a way, Poor kid’s a right lamb in the lion's den; stuck with the unforgettable mark of a Ventrue Prince himself too. If he was in his shoes he’d be hesitant to breathe, never mind speak freely about matters of the Kindred.  
  


“I can’t see how much harm talking to your own _best_ _friend_ can cause the Camarilla anyways.” Vaughn finishes what he’s saying, staring directly at Perse with a rather cold expression for a friend, offence evident. 

“Well I-” Perse flounders like a fish out of water, completely out of his element because Vaughn has a point, he really has no reason _not_ to speak even if by direct correlation to a very, _very_ powerful Kindred. No, Vaughn has him here. 

“N-No not really. I never really got the chance to go anywhere. Before my parents died and I moved here I never really…left my hometown. But I’ve heard stories of Nevada, Vegas in particular. Heard it's a sanctum for anyone like us. That we can move around freely due to the nature of the City of lights. Hard to have a bad time there.” 

Vaughn smiles at his friend, loosening up a little, feeling more comfortable to speak. Ever since he got involved with that Ventrue asshole he’s been different in ways that bother Vaughn to no end, but he can’t put a finger on what exactly seems to be wrong. 

“Indeed it is, ‘haven't been there myself but I’ve heard things. The Kindred there… They’re different. Not fundamentally no, it’s the same old song and dance with the whole Camarilla, Anarchs and Sabbat as usual but-” He pauses, glancing around the room before leaning in close to Perse. 

“What’s different is how they treat their own there. Heard some pretty awful stories about the Kindred in Nevada. How if you were to say get on one of the higher ups’ bad sides, I mean _really_ piss them off that they take you in the middle of the night, drive you out to the desert and leave you there.” 

Perse looks horrified at Vaughns words and the notion itself, unable to form any words because he _knows,_ he knows what kind of a fate that is for a Kindred.

“Some of the more resilient kindred like Gangrels might be able to get out of there with the skin of their teeth or bury themselves alive but if you’re anything else, god forbid a _thin blood_? You might as well give up and accept that’s your last sunrise because as soon as that sun begins to rise you’re toast.” 

Vaughn stares off into the distance, not really at anything in particular but definitely lost in thought. The fate of Kindred being decided by some big shot who may or may not have just happened to be having a bad day _really_ grinds his gears. Sure, sometimes other Kindred do awful things, break laws, fuck up everything they were told to do but no one deserves a fate like that aside from those Camarilla fucks themselves.

It’s why he left them among other things, he refuses to abide by their shitty rules and regulations and live out the immortal fantasies of some ancient asshole vampire who thinks because they were born in the middle ages that they get to decide who’s right and who’s wrong, who lives and who sees their final sunrise. 

Perse is quiet for a long time, taking in everything but finally finds his words, albeit few in between but enough to convey what he truly feels, without influence from any Prince or Clan or Sect.   
“That’s horrible.” 

Vaughn’s expression changes in an instant, because _he_ gets it, he’s finally getting _why_ the Camarilla and by association the _Ventrue_ are the worst. 

“You’re telling me, The fucking Camarilla have been doing this kind of awful shady shit for _centuries_ . Why do you think the Anarchs exist? We aren’t just here to fuck around and meddle for the sake of it there’s no victory in that. We’re fighting for true freedom in the afterlife because the moment you’re embraced by that asshole who suddenly decided you were better suited to the cold, long undead life, you carry a six thousand year old curse in your blood that binds you _permanently_ to them, your clan and your new masters. Be thankful you’re not one of us.” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is just a world building exercise I thought i'd publish, have a glimpse into my Borderlands/VTMB au.


End file.
